Reignite
by KLynnWrites22
Summary: This is my first ever fanfic, so I know it is probably not the best, but since Reign is one of my top favorite shows, I really wanted to write this! This is my take on what I think should have happened in ep 2x18. I wanted to explore more of Mary's POV and thoughts and emotions during this time as I felt that the original episode really lacked in this area. I hope you enjoy! :)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I would like to take a moment to thank you for the positive feedback  & support. It honestly means so much, and I never thought I'd get this type of response from my little attempt at fanfic. I feel so privileged to be able to share my writing & my modified version of episode 2x18 with you all. Most importantly, I hope you enjoy it! Again, _thank you. You're all very kind._

 **Cover Credit:** A special thanks to the amazing  & talented _demedicigirl_ for creating the gorgeous cover!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not, nor am I claiming to own _Reign_ or its characters. All ownership belongs to its respective  & rightful owners.

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Wind whispered across my exposed skin, sending tremors of chill coursing throughout my body and deep into my bones. My eyes traced over the horizon: over the waves of the ocean in the distance, the trees skirting the castle grounds, and the stones that made up the structure of the balcony on which I stood. Nighttime had never failed to enchant me; even as a child, I would run outside as soon as darkness descended to watch as the moon slowly rose into the sky. I would marvel as it cast an ethereal glow over everything, painting the earth in various shades of alabaster, as if its light was crafted from millions of fragments of stars and from the smallest shards of Heaven itself.

I inhaled slowly and I remembered. I remembered coming to this very spot with Francis many times as children; I remembered how his blue eyes shone in the moonlight and how it gently traced the outline of his golden curls, giving him a halo. The memories I had made here with him as children were my fondest, my most cherished…but they were also the ones that caused me the most heartache. Our lives as husband and wife had once been bathed in light and passion, but were quickly plunged into blackness.

Kings and Queens are not awarded the privilege of leading an easy life, and mine and Francis's was no exception. I had had this naïve dream of sharing the most fervent love this life could offer with the boy I had adored since the tender age of five, but I should have known that as long as we were rulers, we would never truly be free to love in that way. We could never be "just a girl and just a boy" as long as others conspired against us, coveted our life of luxury, and sought to remove the crowns we wore upon our heads.

I should have known that one day this world would tear us down.

My thoughts quickly turned from the beloved memories I had made here at French court as a child to ones more sinister. The horrors I had endured taunted me from the innermost recesses of my mind, and I flinched as the images of my attack flashed behind my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to erase every trace of it, to allow my memories from that night to be as blank as a piece of parchment. I craved escape with every fiber of my being, but I had yet to find it. I again thought of Francis, and I grappled to remind myself of our happiest moments—to think of the love we once shared—but all I could remember was the pain. The boy with the halo of gold and eyes the color of waves crashing against the shore was soon replaced with the memories of agony, desperation, and utter hopelessness.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and began to mentally erect the wall I had built around myself months ago, trying to replace my anguish with a façade of indifference. It was safer to appear cold and apathetic than it was to allow others to see the hurt that tore me apart inside.

It was when I was making my way back toward the door that led into the castle that I heard their voices:

"The physician said it is very unlikely that he will survive."

"But he is so young!"

My feet involuntarily led me the rest of the way and brought me to the hallway just off the balcony. Two servants slowly wandered along side by side in the dim candlelight, their voices echoing off the stone walls.

"I know, and it is so sudden. I would never have believed it myself had I not been in his chambers at the time the physician performed his examination."

The other servant shook her head solemnly. "May God bless the King."

My heart froze in my chest. Were they speaking of Francis? I emerged from the shadows and approached them.

"What did you say about the King?"

The young women came to an abrupt stop and looked at me in shock. They swiftly glanced at each other before bowing their heads. Neither seemed to know what to say or do, and several moments passed before one of them spoke. "Y—Your Highness—,"

I repeated, "What did you say about the King?"

The woman exchanged another nervous glance with her companion before beginning to stammer around her words, "Please accept our apologies, Your Grace. We should not gossip—,"

Before I could compose myself, my voice bounced off the walls, "Never mind your gossiping! I overheard you mention the King in your conversation and I want to know what you were saying about him, _now_."

I instantly regretted raising my voice to them as I watched them slightly recoil, but there was no time for apologies or idle discussion. If Francis was in danger, I needed to know.

" _Please_ ," I softened my voice, "if the King is in danger—,"

Their heads snapped up in unison, and one of them whispered in disbelief, "You don't know!"

My mouth went dry and my racing heart picked up rate. "What don't I know?"

She frowned and looked at her friend for guidance, but was offered none. "The King collapsed earlier this evening. The physician said—Your Majesty, the physician said that it doesn't look good."

I clenched my hands together and tried to calm my breathing. "But he was fine this morning… are you certain you are not mistaken?"

The women fidgeted with their clothing and refused to meet my eyes. "I was there, Your Grace. I am not mistaken."

Smoothing a hand over my gown and composing my features, I took two deep breaths of air.

"Speak to no one of what you know about the King."

They nodded.

"Return to your posts."

With a bow of their heads and murmured apology, they quickly shuffled down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

I brought a hand to my mouth and closed my eyes against the onslaught of unshed tears. This could not be happening. It was all a nightmare, it had to be. He's always been so healthy; how could he become so ill so suddenly? The servants _had_ to be mistaken, surely. Perhaps they heard incorrectly or…

Picking up my skirts, I ran down the hall as fast as my legs could carry me. The scenario played out in my mind: I would shove open the doors to his chambers and find him sleeping peacefully. I would feel the relief wash over me as I listened to his steady breathing and watched the light from the fireplace flicker across his features, emphasizing the immense serenity that came over him as he slept. I would let out the breath I had been holding because I would know that he was well… because I would know that he would live to see tomorrow.

And yet, as I came to a stop in front of his chamber doors, I knew. I could feel it in the air, in my heart, and I could see it on the guards' faces when they saw me.

The servants were not mistaken.


	2. Chapter 2

Dread gripped me in its sharpened talons as I slowly pushed the heavy wooden doors open and took in the sight before my eyes.

Francis lie at the center of his bed with his arms folded over his abdomen. His head lulled back on the pillows and his lips parted slightly as he inhaled. My feet slowly traveled across the expanse of the floor, but froze in their path when a voice cut through the silence.

"How dare you come here?" Catherine's eyes bore into mine angrily from where she sat at the bedside."Don't you think you're over-doing it? Shoving the doors open with your crocodile tears," She shook her head disdainfully. "Do us all a favor and save your pathetic doting wife act for your lover."

I felt my eyes widen at her words. She smirked, "Oh yes, I know about your little affair with the Bourbon." She spit the last word from her mouth as if it was poison on her tongue. Her fingers gently pushed a lock of hair from Francis's forehead. "What a glorious moment this must be for you: watching your husband, the last person standing in your way to happiness, clinging to life, knowing that you're one step closer to being rid of him."

"Do you think me to be that cold?"

She ignored my question. "How very bitter it is to know that you will ride off into the sunset with a heart full of love, while my son will die with a broken one."

Realization struck and my mouth struggled to form the words, "You blame me for this."

Her eyes shot up to mine and she made no move to correct me.

"Don't you think that is unfair?"

" _Unfair_?!" She shot from the chair and stalked towards me. "Do you want to talk unfair, Mary? Hmm? Do you really want to know what is unfair?" Her lips curled back over her teeth, "You may want to take a seat."

"Catherine—,"

"Don't speak. I want to know where you were. _Where were you_ , Mary _,_ when Francis fell ill?"

"I was away from the castle—,"

"With _Conde_." She glared at me with unbridled disgust. "Do you want to know where I was?" She smiled cheekily, as if she was about to let me in on some dark secret."I was here, telling Francis of your plans to run off to Scotland."

I gasped, "How did you—,"

"I found your letters. I must admit, I could hardly believe it at first—that sweet, innocent Mary, Queen of Scots could do something so despicable, but I suppose I made a grievous error in judging your character."

I recoiled at her words and my breath stuck in my throat as if I had been slapped across the face. She quickly turned away and walked to the opposite side of the room. I tried to find the right words to say, but all I could think about was everything she had just said, everything I should have said… everything I had failed to say to Francis before he fell ill and may never get the chance to say...

Hot tears burned my cheeks and I steadied my breathing. My vision was blurry as I stared straight ahead, unseeing to all around me. I blinked a few times to clear the moisture from my eyes, and air hissed through my teeth as I inhaled slowly.

Catherine's back was to me as she gazed out the window. Her stance was just as regal and intimidating as ever, however, her shoulders slacked slightly, betraying the hard exterior she presented. As difficult as her words were to hear, and as much as I wanted to defend myself, my heart softened to her. She was just as beaten down as I, and beneath the cold and unyielding façade she wore, she was dying inside.

"Catherine, please—,"

"To think…" She turned her head and met my gaze. I was taken aback by the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks andher hands trembling slightly. "To think that if I had just let you marry Bash…"

Her skirts glided across the floor as she went back to Francis's bedside; her fingers traced his cheekbone affectionately and her eyes shone with the reverence a mother reserves for her child. "Nostradamus had always said you would be the cause of his death, but I never thought you would kill him by breaking his heart."

My head dropped as the tears ran down my face faster, and a noxious cocktail of emotions—agony, grief, confusion, remorse and loss—slashed through me like a ravenous animal.

"I suppose I will leave you to revel in your victory."

"Please, Catherine. I never wanted for this to happen. If I could take it all back—,"

"Don't waste your breath, Mary. I've learned to not trust a word that comes from your mouth. I highly doubt that you would change what you've done. You have made it clear that you see Francis as a nuisance—an obstacle in your way to happiness." She smiled bitterly, and her voice took on a patronizing tone. "But don't worry, once he breathes his last breath, you'll have everything you've ever wanted: your crown, your lover, _and_ your freedom. Some would even go as far as to say you have won, but mark my words: I will make you pay for this. It is one thing to cross a spouse; it is one thing to cross a King or a Queen, but it is another thing entirely to cross a Medici."

With a flourish of crimson satin, she exited the room and I was left alone in the flickering candlelight. I looked at Francis's serene face, and even though he was with me physically, I never felt more alone. He seemed to be miles away, someplace where I could not reach him and someplace where he would not hear me if I called out for him. I watched as the light from the fireplace castshadows across his features, and had someone entered this room and saw him as he was now, they could have been fooled into believing he was only asleep, ready to awake at the light of dawn.

I sat at the foot of the bed carefully and watched him for several moments. My hand trembled as it crept across the covers to touch his hand where it rested on his abdomen. His flesh was warm to the touch, and my fingers instinctively slid through his as my skin remembered the feel of his. I memorized the way it felt as my thumb traced over his knuckles, the fair hair on the back of his hand, and circled the cool metal of his signet ring. If this would be the last time I'd ever see him while his heart still beat, I wanted to remember everything: the way his fair curls rested upon his head like a golden crown, the way his bottom lip pouted slightly more than his top, the way his steady breathing sounded as it whispered from between his lips.

It had been so difficult to touch him, to even be in such close proximity to him before…but now it was as it was before the attack: being near him was as easy and effortless as blinking, and touching his skin triggered an awareness that took the breath from my lungs.I latched onto the sound of his every breath, and time seemed to slow as I drunk in every detail and hung onto every rise and fall of his chest. The tears slid down my cheeks in torrents and the sound of my heart pounding at my ribs in the stillness nearly drove me mad.

He could not die…he couldn't. The mere thought of a world without Francis was horrifying; how could I have ever gone on without him?

I was a fool, and I had made a horrible mistake.

I clasped my hand over my mouth as the sobs I had been holding back escaped. My heart ached, my head throbbed, and my eyes burned like lemon juice on an open wound. It had been months since I could remember how wholly and irreversibly I loved Francis; it had been months since I could remember just how much my heart beat for his. In my desperation to find happiness, I had forgotten the bliss I had known with my husband, my best friend, and the love of my life. In my desperation to run from the memories of the assault, I had betrayed the man I swore to love until the end of my days, and I would never get the chance to tell him.

" _Please…Please, God, let him hear me._ " I whispered in the silence.

My fingers grasped his more tightly, "Francis, if by some miracle you can hear me,I need you to know that I am sorry. I have not been a wife to you, and I will live with the sorrow of my betrayals for the rest of my life." I touched his cheek with my free hand and my fingers traced his jawbone as they had hundreds of times before. "Please, _live_. Your family needs you, your country needs you… _I_ need you. I know that I have hurt you, and I know that you will probably never look at me the same way again, but my heart still belongs to you. Even if you no longer want me, even if you no longer want me as your wife and your Queen, I cannot bear losing you. You are more important to methan anything has ever been, and as hard as I'm sure it is for you to believe, you come before everything and anyone else. If you want me to leave, I will go, just as long as I can see you well again. At least then I can rest knowing you are alive somewhere in this world, wherever it is I go and however you feel towards me." I wiped the tears from my cheeks and felt my heart shatter piece by piece as I spoke again.

"And if you are to die," my voice cracked as a fresh wave of tears rained down from my eyes, "If you are to leave this world before the sun rises, you must know that I love you. You probably don't believe me, and I don't blame you, but that doesn't make it any less the truth. I never stopped loving you; I always have, for as long as I can remember. I suppose I have loved you from the moment I met you as a little girl with skinny legs, a missing front tooth, and strong opinions. And when I came back to court again, when I saw you…I _knew._ I knew that I loved you and that even though everything was different from when we were children, nothing would change how I felt. You were like a ray of light in the darkness… a promise of a lifetime of happiness that I had only known with you. Francis, I will always love you, and when we meet our maker, I shall still. Even if it takes years before we meet again; even if I am earth-bound and you are within the clouds in paradise, I will still love you. Please don't ever doubt that."


	3. Chapter 3

I hurried down the halls before I lost my nerve. The guard stationed outside of the chamber doors watched me curiously as I approached. Clasping my hands in front of me, I straightened my back more and tried to appear calm and collected. "I wish to speak with Queen you know if she is still awake?"

"I do not know, Your Majesty. Would you like me to check?"

"Yes, I would."

He knocked on the door lightly, and a few seconds followed before Catherine's muffled voice could be heard from within. He disappeared into the chambers for a moment before exiting and gesturing for me to enter.

I walked into her rooms before my courage vanished and my feet could carry me elsewhere. She sat in front of her mirror, combing her hair, and her eyes glinting with irritation as they watched me from within the glass.

"And to what do I owe this disturbance?"

"I have been thinking about what you said in Francis's chambers earlier. I understand your anger with me, Catherine, but I felt the need to clarify some things."

Her eyes rolled and she laughed without humor, "You mean that you feel the need to defend your actions. Honestly, Mary, don't try to sugar-coat it."

"Fine. I want to defend myself, is that so awful?"

"It is when you are defending actions as unforgivable as yours."

My patience was wearing thin. "As I said, I understand your anger, Catherine—,"

"Anger?" She laughed in astonishment, "I am not angry, Mary. I am _lethal_."

"Catherine, I had to listen to you berate me without so much as allowing me to get a word in edgewise; I think the least you can do is listen to what I have to say."

" _'_ _The least I can do'_ "? I don't owe you anything." She stood brusquely and walked towards her desk, her voice carrying over her shoulder, "Also, I don't care to hear your speech. I highly doubt there is anything you could say that would alter my opinions of you."

She sat on the chair behind her desk and lifted her chin slightly when she next spoke, "But I suppose I will listen if it means it will help you to sleep at night."

I ground my teeth at her last comment, and worked to reduce the anger boiling beneath the surface. "You said that you didn't believe I would take things back; that you believe me to be so heartless as to _revel_ in my 'victory'…as if I take some sick gratification in Francis's condition. You are _wrong_."

Her eyebrows rose, "Am I now?"

" _Yes_." I took a few steps closer to her desk, "I am devastated, in more ways than one. These past few months have been—," My voice cracked as the tears welled in my eyes. "They have been horrible. After…after the assault I didn't feel like myself, I—"

"You feel broken and unlovable. It feels like your world has been torn apart at the seams and that you will never again be the same person you were before… yes, I know the feeling."

"I—I wanted escape. I felt like I was drowning in the memories, and whenever I was near Francis, I couldn't help but be reminded. He had so much faith in me, and I was terrified of letting him down. I wasn't afraid of letting Conde down, and he had always been there.I thought he could help me to forget. I know it is irrational, and I know that my decisions have caused so much pain, but I saw no other way."

"There is _always_ another way, Mary." She stood and came to stand before me, "I am going to say this once and once only: I understand the need for escape; I've felt it all too many times. It's easier to run from your problems than it is to confront them, but you need to know that no one can help you heal other than yourself. Conde will not fill the void you feel in your heart, and he most definitely will not love you the way Francis does. I know my son, and his world revolves around your very existence—his world spun off its axis and onto yours the moment he laid eyes on you. I've watched his heart break a little more each day, not knowing the reason or how to help, so you will have to learn to accept that I cannot so easily forgive you for what you have done. You _ruined_ him, Mary…you might as well have cut his heart out of his chest and tramped on it yourself!" Her eyes bore into mine, lit from within from the sparks of hurt and fury. "I understand what you went through, better than anyone, and I am not mitigating the suffering you've endured, but I cannot— _will not_ —pardon you for this, if that is what you came here expecting me to do."

"I didn't come here for your forgiveness; I only wanted to make you understand. I wanted to ensure that you know I never meant any harm to come to him—that I—,"

"Enough. Let's speak of this no longer." She brushed past me and busied herself with folding down the covers of her bed.

I walked towards the door, fighting the tears that welled in my eyes. With my hand resting on the door handle, I turned back. "I do still love him." She froze. "It was difficult for me to understand my feelings before, but now I know that nothing has changed in my heart. I love him, and if by some miracle, he does live, I will fight to make him believe that."

When she didn't say anything, I opened the door. Her voice was soft, almost distant, when she spoke. "You may not have to fight very hard. Francis has a better heart than I do, and he will forgive you. Not because he feels obligated or because he wants to avoid a scandal, but because he loves you. He would go to the ends of the earth for you, all without uttering a complaint. That love—it only comes once in a lifetime. If you are able to grasp it again, don't ever let it go."

I stood there, my back still turned to her and the door still ajar. The seconds ticked by before I continued to exit and shut the door softly behind me. I walked back towards my chambers, my mind racing a mile a minute. I wasn't so sure in Francis's forgiveness, but I was sure of one thing:

If I ever did win his love—if I ever was given a second chance to spend a lifetime basking in the love we had known—I would grasp onto it, and _I would never let go_.


	4. Chapter 4

The grass tickled my fingers as they twisted between the blades, and the skirt of my ivory gown was becoming noticeably stained where it lie pooled around me in the moist earth. One of my servants had come to find me as she walked the grounds, and she had insisted I at least sit on a blanket to ensure the expensive silk not be ruined, but I refused. I savored the feel of the ground beneath me, and the chill in the air kept me sobered. The ice that had frosted over the fields and trees had melted over the past few days, grass had begun to grow, and the weather had warmed slightly. Spring was coming, and despite my joy in seeing its signs in all around me, I felt the weight of Francis's condition weighing heavily upon me. He loved the Springtime, even as a child. I remembered wandering the lawns with him in search for a clue of its arrival: the smallest blade of grass or the petal of a flower, or snow melting from the barren tree branches. I remembered the way his curls bobbed up and down as he ambled down the hills, and the way his voice eagerly called back to me whenever I strayed too far behind. We had played games, and we had picked out shapes in the clouds that rolled by above our heads. How simple life had been then, two children running wild and free among their own giddy laughter and innocent grins.

"Mary,"

I turned and looked up into Lola's somber blue eyes.

"Lola," I stood from where I sat and took a few steps towards her, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, I just thought-" She glanced down at the hem of my dirtied dress. "Why are you out here? And without so much as a proper cloak..."

"I just wanted a moment to myself. It can get quite...congested within the castle walls."

A soft smile touched the corner of her mouth, but didn't quite meet her eyes.

I turned my gaze to wander the expanse of land before us. "Have you come to get away from it as well?"

She knew the deeper meaning behind my words, and she huffed out a sigh. "Yes, but I also wanted to check and see how you're doing. Kenna and I-we're quite worried for you. You've been so distant, and understandably so, but we wanted to make sure that you know you can come to us. You don't have to be alone."

"Why shouldn't I? Francis was alone, suffering, while I..." I clutched at the bodice of my dress as the pain radiated through my chest and the tears collected in my eyes.

Her hand touched my arm, "Shh...Mary, it's alright."

"It's not, Lola. My husband is dying! I keep telling myself that he'll be okay, that he'll be better when I next visit his chamber, but nothing ever changes. He remains as he is, barely clinging to life while I watch on, unable to help him. It's torture, and I can't help but feel that I am being punished. For abandoning him, for _betraying_ him, I am now alone just as he was for these weeks..."

She drew me close within her arms and hugged me tightly. "You cannot blame yourself. You had no way of knowing what would happen."

My cries were muffled into her shoulder and I gripped her cloak as if it were the only thing grounding me, "If I could just go back..."

She gasped, "Mary," Her arms suddenly released me and she hastily wiped a few tears from her cheeks. "A guard is approaching."

I quickly wiped the moisture from my cheeks as well and took a breath to compose myself before turning in the direction of the figure in the distance.

"You don't think he is coming to tell me-,"

"Mary, don't say it,"

I could feel my knees weakening and my heart pumping erratically in my chest.

The guard's boots tramped heavily into the ground as he stopped before us. "Your Grace," He bowed deeply and slowly rose. "I have come with news: the King is awake."


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of the heels of my shoes clicking against the marble floors as I ran sounded harsh in my ears. Abandoning all decorum, I shoved my way past the noble men and women where they loitered within the halls, their faces and the rich colors of their clothing a blur.

 _Francis is awake._

This singular thought darted through my mind and resonated a million times over like the chorus of a hymn, scattering all questions and inhibitions that once resided there. I gave no thought to what he may say when I saw him, gave no thought to what I would say to him other than that I thanked God he was alive and that the past few days trapped within the shadow of the unknown had been torture.

I came to a halt before his chamber doors and stopped to catch my breath. What would he say? Would he tell me to leave? Would he force me to return to Scotland?

My heart dropped as the doubts and fears entered my mind. I had just now realized-after months caught within a fog of desperation and darkness- that I still loved him; that I still wanted him with every fiber of my being, that the title of Queen meant nothing without him as my King, and that I craved his presence at my side in a way that trees did the sun after living months beneath the gloom of winter. It had never occurred to me the weight the conversation that would take place behind these doors would carry; I had never thought of what I would do if he said the very sight of me disgusted him; that he no longer wanted me as his wife or his Queen and that I return to Scotland immediately.

I had never thought of what it would mean if my husband no longer loved me.

Of course it was a possibility, and of course his choice in ending our marriage would be justified, but thinking it; picturing the words falling from his lips took the breath from my lungs and sent my heart into a tizzy. How could I bear it?

 _How could I bear life without him?_

The door opened and Catherine emerged from the room, her face impassive, but her cheeks more colored than they had been in the past few days. Her eyes raked over my dress, "Were you playing in the mud?" She said, her voice carrying a slight tone of disgust and scorn.

"How is he?" I asked.

She lifted her chin slightly, "He's doing well. That is, as well as any man can after returning from the brink of death."

Her hand stopped me as I approached the door. "He wants to speak with you, but I should warn you; he is still weak. Try to not trigger any strong emotions, or any more than you can help. He must remain calm so as to not risk worsening his frail condition."

"Perhaps I should wait to speak with him until tomorrow. It may not be wise for him to see me while he is still recovering,"

She shook her head, "It won't do. He insists he speak with you. I tried to reason with him, but he won't be nudged." She moved away from the door and clasped her hands in front of her, "Now go. Don't keep him waiting."

I listened until the sound of her skirts swishing against the floor disappeared down the hall before slowly pushing the door open. The curtains were drawn away from the windows, and the bright sunlight that filtered in through the glass panes touched every surface in sight. My eyes fell immediately upon the halo of golden curls that rested upon the pillows, and the soft clicking of the door latching behind me attracted his attention. He turned his head and his clear blue eyes met mine. I moved slowly across the room, my eyes never leaving his, and came to a stop a few feet from his bedside. I clasped my hands together and grounded my feet to the floor in an effort to force myself to keep my distance. My fingers itched to touch him, to make sure he was really there.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

He exhaled and turned his gaze to the window, "Drained, but well enough. Thankful to be alive, but all the same, wishing for release."

My feet moved involuntarily and I inched closer to him, "I-I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you." His head snapped back in my direction and his brows furrowed slightly as I moved even closer to his side. I stopped abruptly, feeling the sting of his reaction to my increased proximity. "I was so frightened- I don't know if I could have endured it much longer."

His head tilted slightly, "That's funny, particularly when considering the fact that you seem to have dealt with my absence-our separation-quite well for months."

I flinched, and tore my gaze from his and focused on the lavishly embroidered blanket that lay across his bed.

"When were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to abandon everything-leave the country and people that protected you as a child, break our alliance, and leave me without so much as a warning?"

My heart lurched and my vision began to blur as the tears I had been struggling to contain began to well in my eyes. Silence hung in the air, seemingly casting the once brightly lit room into darkness. "I hadn't planned on telling you." I cleared my throat and dropped my head, "I thought it would be easier-I didn't think I could face you."

It was quiet for several moments. "You didn't think you could face me? You faced me-you looked me directly in the eyes as you told me you wished to take up with another. You faced me as you told me that you no longer believed in me-in _us_ \- and you _didn't think you could face me_? You didn't think I at least deserved a proper explanation before you ran to Scotland with your lover?" His tone was severe, even as his voice maintained a soft volume.

"I deserve your anger, Francis, but please, don't strain yourself. You are still too weak."

I watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched. His fingers wove into the blanket as he worked on steadying his breathing. His eyes didn't meet mine as he next spoke, his voice calm and his composure collected, "For months, I lived in torment. I was forced to continue on as if nothing had happened-forced to play the role of an invincible and strong King. Keep up this pretense that everything was alright...all while my wife was with another." His breath hitched, "Every time I look at you, all I can see is you in his arms."

Tears burned my flesh as they ran down my cheeks, and my heart ached as I heard the pain in his voice-pain that I had caused.

"I feel as if I no longer know you." He kept his eyes trained in front of him; his gaze far away, but all the same, very presently brimming in his despair. "You don't even look the same, and I find it difficult to recall what it felt like to love you...to hold you in my arms and wish the world would stop turning just so we could stay that way if only a moment longer. I dreamt of you every night you were gone; trying to memorize the feel of your skin, your smile..." His mouth opened slightly as air shuddered between his lips. "And now it all feels like some cosmic joke. All of my memories tainted by thoughts of you and _him_."

My chest shook as silent cries crawled up my throat, and dread settled in the pit of my stomach. This was it. He was ending it, and he did not want me. It was a reality I had expected, but a cruel reality nonetheless. I had made this mess, and I had made the decision for the both us. I supposed it was fitting and fair that he make _this_ decision.

"I'm so sorry, Francis. I am sorry for the pain that I have caused you. You'll never know how sorry. I'm sure my apologies mean nothing to you, but I _am_ sorry. If I could-if I could take it all back, I would do it without thought."

He closed his eyes, "I wish that I could believe you. I _want_ to believe you, but I have lost all trust in you. And without trust-without _faith_ -is there anything left here?"

I took a step closer, "And what of love? Does it not count for something?"

His eyes met mine, and I could see the gleam of unshed tears. "I used to believe it did. _You_ were the reason I believed in it- _you_ were the reason I thought we could withstand anything...but now I'm not so sure. Maybe love is no longer a privilege we can share."

His unspoken sentence hung in the air.

 _Love is irrelevant to people like us._

Sobs broke through my lips and I clutched at my stomach, feeling the twinge of heartbreak radiate down throughout my body and embed its agony deep into my bones.

Tears trickled down his cheeks, "Don't cry, Mary. It will just make this harder than it already is."

My voice broke, "Can we not give this-can we not give _us_ another chance?"

His eyebrows rose slightly, "Is there still an _us_?"

"Yes! At one time I didn't think there was-at one time I had given up, but it was only out of fear and of confusion that I had. Francis, I still love you. I still want you, I still _need_ you! Do my words mean nothing? Can you not ever forgive me?"

His face fell even further than it already had; his grief, misery, and hesitancy painting his features. "I don't know. I need time."

"I can give you time!" I shouted, "I will wait as long as it takes."

He shook his head, "No. You never wanted time...you never wanted to fight for us; you wanted freedom. Now that I know I never gave you enough, I can say the words you always wanted me to say. Go. You are free-from me, from France...from the alliance."

My breath hitched, and I felt the weight of his words hit me like a ton of bricks. "Go? You want me to leave you."

"Being free...it's what will make you happy. The least I can wish for you is to be happy, even if it is without me." He took a deep breath and shifted so that he sat higher where he lie against the pillows. "You are free to go. I am no longer keeping you here."

"And this is what you want? For me to leave?" I could barely utter the words.

"It is of no import what I want. The decision is now yours." He replied softly.

My knees weakened, and I fought the urge to throw myself into his arms. It was in times of pain that his arms were the only curative to my strife. I was beginning to speak-to tell him that I did not want the freedom, only him-when I recalled Catherine's words.

 _Try to not trigger any strong emotions, or any more than you can help. He must remain calm so as to not risk worsening his frail condition._

Keeping my voice as steady as I could, I said, "You should rest." My feet brought me the rest of the way to his side and I cautiously placed my hand over his. He turned his head abruptly, and his eyes bore into mine. In them, I could see surprise, uncertainty and confusion, but he didn't move his hand out from beneath mine. "My presence has only disturbed you."

I turned on my heel and walked to the door, pausing as I opened it, not daring to look back at him out of fear of what I might see. Was he watching me? Was he looking out the window? Was he relieved to see me leave? I didn't want to know the answer.

I exited the room, the door closing behind me with a solid and resolute click, once again placing a distance between he and I that left me feeling as if we were worlds apart. As if it could hear the beat of his from behind the heavy wood, my heart thrashed and reached for him, clawing like a caged animal against my ribs. The remoteness I had come to know when trapped within the brutal expanse descended, and as my feet sluggishly carried me through the halls of the castle, I once again shut out the shrieks of my heart as my anguish swallowed it whole.


	6. Chapter 6

My fingers traced over the letters embroidered within the cloth I held, feeling the tall rise of each, the slopes of the M and the outstretched legs of the F. I ran my thumb where the letters met, trying to memorize where they entwined, perfectly embracing each other as if they had been made for the other. I kept my eyes trained ahead, watching the flurry of noble men and women coming and going in the courtyard.

I would greatly miss it. France had become my second home from the moment I had come here as a child, and it had become my home the moment my husband and I had made our vows.

That day seemed far away now. I remembered it clearly, but not as I had once before. As I thought of it now: all ivory lace, falling feathers and a flurry of laughter and kisses, sadness replaced the joy I had once felt whenever I recalled that fond memory.

As I dropped the piece of embroidery into my valise, a knock sounded on the door. I turned slightly from where I sat near the window.

"Enter,"

A guard appeared in the doorway, "Your Majesty," he bowed. "Ladies Kenna and Lola would like to speak with you. May they come in?"

I waved my hand, "Yes, of course."

He dipped his head and promptly exited. Seconds later, Kenna entered, followed by Lola.

"Mary, there's been word around the castle that you're packing. Are you going on a trip?" Kenna waltzed into the room, her back held straight and a touch of a smile ghosting her lips.

I stood from the ottoman and brushed my hands across the bodice of my dress, "Uh, no." I turned and busied myself with folding a blanket that had been draped on the back of a chair. "I am returning to Scotland...permanently."

"Permanently? Mary, are you saying...?"

"Yes," I turned slowly and met their startled gazes. They exchanged a glance with each other.

"I-I don't know what to say," Lola said softly.

"Was this your decision?" Kenna asked, her gaze piercing, as if she were trying to read my eyes.

"Partially," I sank down onto the ottoman again. "When I spoke to Francis yesterday...he released me."

Kenna sat next to me, her brow furrowed. "Released you? He told you to leave?"

Lola's hand touched my shoulder reassuringly. I didn't meet their eyes, "He didn't so much as tell me as give me the freedom to leave. He said it was my decision whether I go or stay."

"And you want to leave?" Lola asked.

Moisture filled my eyes as it had every time I thought of the prospect, and I studied my hands where they lay in my lap. "No, but I...I don't feel there is anything left keeping me here."

I could see Kenna exchange another glance at Lola out of the corner of my eye, and a few seconds passed in silence.

"What does this mean for us? Should we accompany you home?" Lola's voice was quiet.

I took each of their hands in one of my own. "That is entirely up to you. You are my ladies, but you are also my friends and I want you to be happy. You both have ties here, and if you'd like to stay in France, I don't want you to feel badly about it." I managed a small smile, "And if you'd like to join me, I would love your company."

We sat in the silence, our hands intertwined and our thoughts silently rushing through our minds at a mile a minute. "Mary, what makes you so certain you have to leave?" Kenna asked, her tone inquisitive and voice soft.

"Francis was quite adamant that I should go and find freedom, and I scarcely believe that he feels we can mend this mess I've made."

Lola sank down into the chair across from me, "Mary, despite what he may have said to you yesterday, we all know he would do and say whatever to ensure your happiness. Have you considered the possibility that he only told you to go because he thought it's what you wanted?"

"I hadn't, but-"

"But what? Mary," Kenna touched my leg and looked into my eyes, her voice determined. "Stay. Francis gave you the choice. You don't have to leave if you don't want to. France is your home just as much as Scotland."

"Yes, it is. It has become home to us all." Lola said, "That being said, Mary, you once told me that hope was one of the things that brought the two of you together. Why give up now? I know you believe that Francis has lost hope, but I don't believe it for one second. I have never seen a man so madly in love; in fact, I've never seen a love quite as extraordinary. Even if he's given up, you haven't. Don't admit defeat: fight. If anything at all keeps you here, let it be your hope that you and Francis can find your way back to each other."

Suddenly, a knock on the door sounded that caused us all to jump. Standing, I fixed my features to appear calm; more regal, and less effected by the conversation. With a sigh, I opened the door, preparing myself for whatever it was whoever that stood behind it had come to say.

"Francis," the words fell from my lips before I could stop them, sounding more surprised than I had intended.

His face appeared aloof, but his eyes watched me warily. "Are you busy?"

"Ah, no." I opened the door wider and stood aside. He hesitated when he saw Lola and Kenna sitting near the window.

"Perhaps I should come back later," He said.

"No, no!" Kenna stood abruptly. "We were just leaving."

They quickly left, pleasant smiles pasted to their faces. I turned away from the door and walked into the center of my chambers, busying myself with some documents on the desk.

"I'm happy to see you up and about. How do you feel?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

I heard the door click shut behind me and I turned. He slowly wandered into the room, keeping his distance as his eyes glanced around. A gentle smile touched his lips, "It's nice finally being able to stretch my legs. Although, I can't tell you how many times I have been asked how I feel today." He grinned a little wider, and I couldn't help but smile back.

He glanced around the room again, and his eyes fell on the valise sitting open near the window. "So what I have heard is true...you're leaving."

I swallowed and averted my gaze. "Yes."

I didn't see his reaction to my response, but I heard his soft sigh. "Well, then I hope you'll find happiness...wherever you go."

When I looked up, he was turning to leave. I took a step forward, "Francis," He looked back, and beneath the surface of the collected facial expression he wore, I could see his sadness.

"What if-what if I stayed?" I took several steps closer to him, searching his eyes for some clue to what he was thinking. A wave of dismay washed over me as I realized that I could not tell what was on his mind as I once could; when his thoughts were as easily discerned as the words upon the pages of a book. "I know that you said you wanted me to be happy, but I don't feel I can be in Scotland-not now. France has become my home, and if you would allow me, I'd like to remain here."

He watched me carefully, his eyes holding mine in his as he thought of what I had just said. Several moments passed in silence. My heart raced; what if he said no? I would have no choice but to go, and the very thought terrified me. How could I return home now? After all this time and after everything?

"I know you said you needed time, Francis, but-"

"I would like that." He said quietly. "I would like for you to stay, but only if it is truly what you want."

My lips twitched as I fought a smile, and relief trickled through my veins bit by bit. "It is."

He smiled-the first full and genuine smile I had seen in months-and nodded. "Then you will stay,"

For the first time in what had seemed like an eternity, we were smiling. The room seemed to become brighter as we stood there, contentedly watching the other; the unspoken realization that we were taking a small step towards each other suspended between us.

"Well," He took a step in the direction of the door. "I have quite a few matters to attend to. I will leave you to your-" he gestured to the valise, "unpacking, I suppose."

My smile faded as I watched him turn to leave, and I wandered back to the window. I traced the outline of the yards and watched the birds fluttering among the branches of the trees. The gratifying sense of liberation flooded my body, accompanied by utter happiness.

"Mary,"

I turned back, surprised to see that Francis still stood by the door. "My mother is planning a party for tomorrow night. She's saying it's to welcome the arrival of Spring, but her true intention is to make some grand display of my health. I thought perhaps you would like to attend... at my side."

I smiled, "I would like that."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Hi all! Thank you SO MUCH for your kind reviews, support, and most of all, patience. I must apologize for how long it has taken for me to update. I didn't realize how much time has passed, and I've been finding myself quite busy with school. I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

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"Thank you, Meredith. That will be all."

My handmaiden bowed as she finished lacing the back of my gown, then quickly left; her exit marked by the click of the door latching behind her. I sunk down onto the seat in front of the vanity and gazed into the mirror. What I expected to see, I did not know.

My eyes bore into their reflection, their depths remarkably hollow. I told myself it was merely due to my restless night, and not by the trepidation flowing through my veins and taunting from the shadows of my mind. My fingers fumbled with the clasp of my necklace, and I huffed in frustration.

Could I do this? Could I face all those noblemen and women, stoic smile pasted to my lips and estranged husband at my side? How could I? The rumors of my infidelity had circulated, and wherever I walked, I could feel their baleful eyes watching my every move; as if I were a dying deer and they the ravenous wolves eager to feast upon my carcass.

I tossed the necklace onto the vanity and instead chose to tuck a few stray ringlets of hair into the intricate hairstyle piled near the top of my head. A knock sounded on my door, and without glancing up from the mirror, I said, "Enter."

With a trembling finger, I shoved the last curl beneath one of the many pearls woven within my hair. I looked up and saw Francis standing near the door, his piercing eyes watching my movements.

"I thought I'd come escort you to the party, but I see you're still not ready," His eyes darted down to my bare toes from where they peeked out from beneath the hem of my skirts.

I stood. "Oh...well, I will only be just a moment more." I stepped towards him, motioning with my hand. "Please, come in,"

He watched my face steadily before closing the partially open door behind him. I sunk back down onto the chair, slipping on the shoes Meredith had left out to match the gown. I was securing my right shoe when suddenly, I felt the gentle graze of fingers over the fabric of my bodice, just below where the laces of the corset tied.

A small gasp escaped my lips, and my heart hammered in my chest. The movements stopped, "I'm sorry to have startled you. Your handmaiden missed a lace," his voice sounded softly from behind me, and the heat of his fingers briefly dashed across the exposed skin of my back. My eyes drooped involuntarily as my body responded to his touch.

"There," I could detect the faintest smile in his voice as he spoke. I cleared my throat and wove my trembling fingers into the smooth fabric of my skirts. My mouth had gone dry and a flush touched my cheeks as my mind instantly recalled the images of our countless nights within each other's arms; of our heated skin grazing each other's, our limbs intertwined, knotting the sheets, and the urgency in our kisses as our bodies united and found rhythm.

I busied myself with the necklace I had discarded previously, the clasp slipping through my clammy fingers. His voice stilled my movements, "Please, allow me."

Swallowing, I met his eyes in the mirror and gazed into their blue depths. His fingers gingerly took the clasp from within mine, his eyes never wavering as he secured the gold and ruby encrusted necklace around my neck.

A few moments passed in silence as we watched each other in the glass before I could find my voice. "Thank you,"

A soft smile touched the corner of his mouth as he stepped away from the chair. I rose slowly, feeling the slightest tremor within my knees. I smoothed the skirts of my gown and fidgeted with my hair once more. I draped a velvet shawl over the crooks of my elbows and managed a smile, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, but you are forgetting something," he replied, his voice soft, as if his thoughts were somewhere else.

I frowned and surveyed the room. When I turned my head back in his direction, we were mere inches from each other's faces and my breath once again hitched in my throat. In his fingers, he cradled the delicate golden crown which had been resting on the vanity, its rubies and pearls shimmering in the candlelight.

A smile no longer grazed his lips, and his eyes had become noticeably darker. He slowly lifted it, his gaze traveling to the top of my head as he said: "A crown...for a Queen."

His voice had taken on a huskier tone as he tenderly nestled it within my hair, and as he took his hands away, his eyes darted down to mine. What he said next was nearly inaudible, but his impassioned and reverent tenor promised that his statement was meant for my ears alone- that this statement had never before meant nearly as much with anyone else.

"You are beautiful."

Silence consumed the room as we watched each other, our mouths unmoving, but eyes reaching out; our secrets, unspoken thoughts, and memories flashing beneath their depths. The heat of our breaths intermingled within the small space between our mouths, every hushed thought and recollection embracing as they met.

With a definitive shove, the doors to my chambers swung open. We both turned and watched as Catherine strode in, the beading of her extravagant gown glinting as the light of the flickering candles played tricks across the fabric. A smirk touched her mouth as she took notice of the proximity in which Francis and I stood. "Now, now. Don't let my entrance interrupt whatever precious moment seems to be happening here."

Her heels clicked against the stone floors as she stepped forward with the prowess of a lion stalking her prey, her steely eyes studying our faces astutely.

"Mother-" Francis said, his voice taking on a tone of warning.

Her smirk deepened as she flicked a hand in his direction, "Is it some crime that I am interested to know what you two were doing-or should I say...about to do?" Her eyes darted to Francis. "Your entrance and extended time in Mary's chambers has certainly caused quite a stir among the servants and guards. They're already whispering fantastical and borderline lewd stories to one another in the alcoves." That same smirk remained on her lips, and she seemed to be holding back laughter.

Abruptly, her smile vanished and was replaced with a tight frown. "But never mind that. The throne room is teeming with noblemen and women very eager to see their King alive and well. I have been stalling them for twenty minutes, and that idiotic harpist is already intoxicated." She rolled her eyes, then turned and began to walk back towards the doors. Without looking back, she said, "Do not keep our guests waiting. I hate to think some of their stories may be true."

The doors closed behind her once again, and the sound of her heels clicking against the stone floors slowly dissipated.

I stared openmouthed after her exit, and barely noticed Francis's sigh.

"How is it possible I am already annoyed with her even before the party has started?" he said with a slight chuckle.

I laughed. "And it will get much worse, won't it?"

He extended his arm slowly, and I slid mine through his elbow. We moved towards the doors, our discussion echoing down the halls as we walked. I briefly glanced at the two guards stationed outside my doors, and the small grins they exchanged when they believed us to not be looking told me that Catherine had not been lying about the gossip.

I looked at Francis, his small frown indicating he had noticed as well. "I don't know much about what type of...spectacle she has planned, but judging from the sizeable amount of gold missing from the coffers, it will be even bigger and grander than any event we have attended thus far."

My throat constricted slightly at the thought. "Giant butter sculpture and all?"

He laughed, and the first real and dazzling smile broke across his lips. "It was a cherub last time. I wonder what it will be now? A Pegasus? A grinning dragon?"

"Ah, but instead of fire, it spits molten butter," We laughed together, and I questioned why I had been so nervous before. It was as if nothing had changed; we waltzed into the throne room, arm in arm and smiles on our faces, and all eyes watched us. I could feel their judgment and their scrutiny, but I did not care. All that mattered was that for the first time in a while, Francis and I were smiling in each other's company, and the burden that once clung to our shoulders seemed to have been lifted.

Somehow, Catherine's voice still managed to cut through the sounds of chatter within the room, "There's my son!" She rushed forward and ushered us towards the spread of food. We passed by the harpist, who plucked clumsily at the strings while slumped against the wall in the corner. A goblet sat in his lap, a dribble of ale-or spit, I could not tell-escaped from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes drooped heavily.

"Idiot!" Catherine hissed beneath her breath.

We stopped before the table of food. Francis nudged my arm and we smiled at each other discreetly as we took notice of a large butter sculpture sitting at the end, this time, in the form of an angel.

Catherine delicately plucked a square of chocolate from a large platter in the center, and turned towards us. She grinned eagerly, "The finest chocolate, imported from Belgium and dusted with gold powder and flower petals. All edible, of course." She glanced over my shoulder and a devious grin ghosted her lips.

"Ah, Lord Armistead. I've heard he was very...intrigued when he heard the rumors of your illness." She glanced at Francis, and her eyes glinted in anger. "It's been said his smile alone was nearly treasonous."

Placing the chocolate back onto the platter, she stalked off into his direction. Her voice carried over her shoulder, "Good Lord Armistead. How lovely it is to see you here..."

Francis sighed. "She's not very subtle, is she?" He motioned towards the platters of food with his free hand, each item even more extravagant than the previous. "All of this-just to make a display of my health and to shove the rumors back down all their throats."

We turned in the direction of the dais, and slowly walked, tilting our heads as each nobleman and woman bowed at our passing.

"Well, your mother is certainly not known for throwing modest parties."

He slid his arm out from mine and held my hand as I sat into the throne before he sunk down onto his. His eyes surveyed the festivities, "It all feels so forced-fake. Something this excessive doesn't dispel rumor; it only draws attention to the fact that something is being covered up."

I studied his profile, noticing the way his eyes dashed from one end of the room to another. "Are you looking for someone?" I asked.

He brought his hand up and leaned his chin on it. "I was hoping to see Bash, but I suppose he's off running some errand."

"The duties of a King's Deputy are never finished." I replied, looking around the room as well. It struck me as odd that neither Kenna nor Lola were anywhere to be seen.

"You are also looking for someone?"

I sighed. "Kenna and Lola. I had thought they'd be here, but I don't see them."

He hesitantly offered his hand to me and I studied his face. He smiled slightly, "I won't bite."

I put my hand in his and we rose in unison. He led me to the outskirts of the dance floor. "The couples' dance is about to begin," he explained. "Unless you are opposed?"

I once again studied his face, looking for some clue as to what he was thinking. I used to be able to tell his thoughts with just one glance, but it was now as if he had erected a wall between us. It was rare nowadays that I got a glimpse into his thoughts.

"Of course not." I said, smiling in return. The orchestra slowly transitioned from a joyous, upbeat rhythm to a slower, more methodical melody. The couples walked onto the floor, and Francis and I stood in the very center. We bowed and touched palms before spinning leisurely. His eyes bore into mine and I suddenly felt very exposed. It seemed that he could still decipher my thoughts just from looking into my eyes, and I worried what he may find there. Could he something I could not?

"What are you thinking?" We switched hands and spun in the opposite direction.

I struggled to find words. "Uh-just how long it has been since we danced."

He averted his gaze. "It has been a while. Then, it was for appearances."

A frown creased my forehead. "And now?"

His hands abruptly grabbed mine as the melody of the music picked up pace and we began to turn around the floor. Glancing around, I saw that all eyes had come to rest on us, and in a blur of a multitude of colors, Francis expertly guided me into a spin. As I turned back into his direction, I saw that he was grinning. I had completely forgotten our conversation and the fact that every man and woman in the room was watching us.

It was as if we were the only two people in the world- the only two dancing; the music playing just for us.

I found myself laughing with him as we completed every step, turn, and rotation. I had once believed I was no longer capable of feeling this kind of happiness-that my heart had been lost. Now, I was awash with the joy and elation found in this moment-this very public, yet seemingly private moment. The music began to taper off, and after one final spin, Francis caught me in his arms.

My laughter sounded loud to even my ears, and his smile was the most beautiful sight in the world. For the second time that night, we watched each other. As my laughing died down, my skin felt charged where his hands gripped my arms. His mouth parted slightly as we gazed into each other's eyes, and he gradually slid his hands down my arms, his fingers skimming the length of my fingers before he let go completely and bowed. I curtsied in response, and the dance was over. Applause sounded all around, and the other couples who had danced slowly retreated.

As the evening wore on, we became entangled in various conversations with the guests. I found myself glancing in the direction of where he stood on multiple occasions. As if sensing my gaze, his eyes would dart up and catch mine. We would remain this way for a few seconds before the nobleman or woman at our sides would require our attention. I was speaking to a visiting Count's wife when my skin prickled in awareness.

I glanced behind me, and on the opposite side of the room, I saw Francis. He beckoned for me with his finger and I readily took the opportunity to excuse myself from the tedious discussion.

"Thank you for sparing me that dreary conversation. If she prattled on about the quality of the champagne one more time..."

He smiled, "I knew just from speaking to her husband that you'd soon require rescue."

"Is he equally as dull?"

With a sigh, he said, "He was very concerned about describing, in great detail, his journey down King's road...as if I haven't travelled it a thousand times myself." He chuckled, "He also mentioned his wife's weakness for a good champagne and copious amounts of sugar. I'm almost certain she's consumed at least half of the platter of chocolates this evening."

I laughed, "For someone who has consumed so much sugar, she is strangely lethargic."

He laughed in return, the sound of it sending small chills down my spine. With the offering of his hand, he said, "Come. I want to show you something."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! Oh wow, it's been a while since I've updated. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. A lot has happened with our beautiful Frary onscreen since I last wrote, and as I'm sure you all can imagine, it's been a little difficult to find the desire to write after everything. However, I know their love story will always be alive and well in our hearts, and that is something I am eternally grateful for. :) As for this fanfic, I hope I am delivering fresh and exciting content that pleases you. I am considering writing a chapter in Francis's POV soon, so if that is something you would like to see, please do let me know in the comments down below!

Thank you for your continued patience and support. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I wish you all a healthy and memorable New Year!

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"Francis, where on earth are you taking me?"

He spun around with a smile, "Will you stop asking so many questions and just trust me?"

I pressed my lips together and continued trudging through the grass behind him. "I trust you infinitely. You just cannot comprehend the struggle of walking through this sod in-" I plucked a clump of dirt off the tip of my shoe and tossed it to the ground, "-heels."

He sighed, "It's just up ahead. Your shoes will survive the rest of the trek."

We were nearing the lake now, the moon and stars swimming in the rippling, glimmering surface like tiny, illuminated fairies. A breeze ran through the mostly barren branches of the trees, but the tallest one near the water's edge was all but in full bloom. Its branches reached into the night sky like flailing arms, new leaves sprouting all over and beginning to fill in the spaces where the stars tried to peek through like prying eyes. Francis stopped a few feet before it and turned his head to look back at me. I stepped forward hesitantly, my mind drawing forth hazy memories of sunshine and laughter and games of hide and seek. I could see two children, one with dark hair and one with fair; one in a blue dress and the other in brown trousers, a white shirt, and embroidered vest. The girl clutched a small dagger which they had stolen from the King's armory earlier that day, clumsily etching into the tree while the boy watched, occasionally glancing behind them to make sure no one spotted them. I tentatively reached out toward the trunk of the tree and my fingers found it instantaneously. I felt the rough ridges of the bark scratching my fingertips, trying to conceal the etching that had been engraved into it so many years ago. I felt the 'M' first, and then the 'F', both letters surrounded by a misshapen heart. A smile spread across my lips and I looked back at Francis.

"I can't believe it's still here! I had nearly forgotten about it." I traced the letters again, more images of us as children resurfacing. I could see us giggling over our successful theft of the dagger and gazing proudly at our initials on the trunk, saying that it would always be there and that we would always remember that day. "Have you always known it was here?"

He smiled and came to stand beside me. "I found it a few months ago when I went horseback riding with Bash. I was waiting for the right time to show you, but-well, the moment never presented itself." His hand touched the trunk now, his index finger outlining the heart. "Do you remember that day?"

I delved deeper into my memories and smiled wider. "Of course. I believe I had asked you to tell me a story-"

"Once upon a time," he tilted his head back and looked up into the branches that reached out over us. "there was a boy and a girl. This boy and this girl had many responsibilities-like learning to fight with swords, how to defend borders and command armies. But most importantly, their number one responsibility was to learn how to hold their heads up high with a crown. However, they were much more interested in other things. Like playing games of hide and seek, or jumping on beds and seeing the fireflies."

He paused as he took my hand gently and walked to the water's edge. We looked out over the water; over the sparkling surface that reflected back the forest trees and the galaxy of stars. He continued, "The boy's parents stressed how important it was that he and the girl learned everything they needed to-because if they were great, honorable rulers, their names would be remembered throughout history."

"But the boy and the girl didn't want to think about being a King and a Queen and signing their names to history, they instead wanted to run through the castle and climb trees." I smiled at him as I now recited our story. "And it was on the tallest tree near the lake that they signed their names. They swore it would be their secret, and that when they were older and wiser and braver, they would come back to that tree and remember their story."

His hand still delicately cradled mine, and I slowly laced my fingers through his. "It's impossible to forget that story."

The moon shone in his eyes, making them glisten like the water in the lake. His fingers lightly squeezed mine as his other hand slowly came up to cradle my cheek. My heart raced in my chest as his thumb traced my cheekbone. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover his and reveled in the familiarity of the gesture-the length of his fingers, the warmth of his palm, the texture of his skin against mine. Slowly, he closed the distance between us and my hand fell from his where it still cupped my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed as his mouth came closer to mine. I took a small step closer, but my heel hit a jagged rock and I lost my balance. Francis's hands came down to my shoulders as he tried to stop my fall, but it was too late. We both toppled over into the water, the chill of it making me gasp as I came up for air.

Francis was about a foot away from me, wiping the water from his face. "Oh my God, I'm such a klutz. Francis-"

He started laughing. "Well, we certainly can't go back to the party now, can we?"

I laughed with him. "I am so sorry. I'm so embarrassed."

He took my hand as we waded through the water back to the shoreline. "Don't be. It will make for a good story."

We sat on the ground and I pulled off my shoes, "Even so, I should probably get rid of these shoes."

He laughed again and took one from my hand. He poked at the broken heel, "That's probably a good idea. We wouldn't want you walking around in these."

I took it back with a smile and set it down with the other. "Maybe I should wear flats from now on,"

He stood and then helped me up. "We should probably go find a warm place to dry off. Unfortunately, that means we'll have to sneak past everyone."

We made our way back towards the castle, clothes dripping. "Is that even possible? The halls are crowded with nobles; there's no way we won't be seen."

Suddenly, he stopped and turned to me. His voice dropped low, but the smirk on his lips told me this was all fun and games. "I know. It is a daring mission, and you will have to put all your faith in me." He extended his hand to me, "Trust me?"

My eyes fell onto his hand, and my train of thought was almost lost when I recalled our moment near the lake's edge. I collected myself and took his hand, "Always."

His eyes softened and he smiled wider. We ran the rest of the way to the castle and paused outside the doors that led into the hall directly off the throne room. Francis tilted his head as he listened, then turned back to me. "There's too many of them loitering outside the throne room. We could use a different door or-"

I pushed the doors open and all heads turned. I felt my cheeks flush slightly as their eyes took in my appearance. "Good evening," I said. After several moments of silence, a few seemed to remember my status and awkwardly bowed their heads, their eyes all the while studying my soaked gown and tousled hair. I could only imagine what they thought I had been doing. Before I could blush even more, Francis emerged from the shadows behind me. A few women gasped when they saw he was in similar disarray. He tilted his head, "Ladies," then again, "Gentlemen,"

He surreptitiously grasped my hand as he moved in front of me, "I trust you're enjoying the festivities. Your Queen and I would very much like to join, but as you can see, we're quite...disheveled." I bit my lip to keep from giggling. Oh, what they must think!

A few moments of silence passed. "Excuse us,"

We walked past them as eloquently as we could, but as soon as we were out of their eyeshot, we ran. We climbed the stairs, laughing the entire way to my chambers. Two guards stood near my door, casually leaning against the wall as they conversed. They turned as they heard our approach and their eyes nearly fell from their sockets.

Francis didn't even bother to make small talk with them as he had with the noble men and women, and instead opened the door to my chambers and pulled me inside. We burst into laughter as soon as the door shut behind us.

"I can't believe we did that!"

He shook his head, "I can't believe you just walked into the hall like that!"

I laughed, "I was cold! I didn't want to look for another door." I walked over to the fireplace and dropped to the floor in front of it, letting the heat radiate through my wet dress. "Besides, it's not like they weren't gossiping about us already,"

He came to stand beside me and shrugged off his jacket before settling down next to me. "My mother is going to be livid." He laughed, "Now no one will be paying attention to her special chocolates or butter sculpture,"

I began pulling the pins from my hair and let it fall around my shoulders. I squeezed the ends, letting the water drip onto the rug beneath us. "It will make for a good story."

A smile ghosted his lips as he warmed his hands in front of the fire. I pushed the skirts of my gown up and let the heat of the flames warm my legs. We sat in silence for several minutes. I studied his profile-the straight slope of his nose, the soft pout of his lips, the glisten of his eyes as they bore into the flames. I could still see traces of the little boy with fair hair, easy smile and blue eyes I had known as a girl.

"Francis, thank you for today." I said softly.

His eyes met mine, "Of course."

"I'm not thanking you for only that. You've been so...wonderful. Even after everything-the ways I hurt you-"

"Mary," He took my hand in his and leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. "We've both hurt each other. We're human-flawed, imperfect beings. Now we can only hope we live our lives as fully and happily as we dreamed."

"You still believe in our dream?" I whispered.

A small, sad smile touched his mouth. "I do. Does that make me completely foolish?"

I looked down at our hands, still intertwined. Then, I did quite possibly the most audacious thing I had done all night. I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed his knuckles. "If you are a fool, then I must be the biggest idiot in France."

His eyes were focused on our hands, their blue depths suddenly grown darker. His fingers tightened in mine as we looked at each other, the crackling of the fire the only sound within the room. We stayed that way for some moments before he next spoke.

"It's late, and you're probably exhausted." He removed his hand from mine and I instantly mourned the loss of contact. He shrugged his jacket back over his shoulders, "I should go."

I stood and smoothed my dress. My feet padded across the stone floor behind him as he walked to the door. He turned back to me, "Goodnight, Mary."

My heart ached in despair. Months ago, this was how I had wanted it-to sleep in different chambers and lead separate lives, but now I wanted nothing more than for him to stay. It had taken time and heartbreak to help me to realize how much I needed him near me. He was like a breath of cool air after a week in smoldering heat or a ray of sunshine after spending years in utter darkness. Again I wondered how I had ever got along without him-how I could ever trick my heart into loving another when Francis had always held my heart from the moment we met as children. What would he say if I acted on whim? Would he push me away if I showed him what my heart so urgently wanted me to do in this moment-or would he pull me closer?

But I shut my heart out, as I did so frequently since becoming Queen. That was what hurt the most- _that_ is what no monarch will ever tell anyone. A crown does not grant you instant happiness, wealth and love. Power means absolutely nothing and everything all at once. A life can begin and end at your command, but your heart will always fight you. And if your heart fights you, the only way to survive-the only way to live with your sins, secrets and regrets is to silence it. Some would say your heart is the thing to blame for your biggest downfalls, and some would say not listening to it will bring your end. I didn't know which side I stood on, and so instead of grabbing him by the shirt and crushing my lips to his-instead of professing my love to him and begging him to stay with me, if not for this night, but for the rest of our lives as our vows had promised, I did the last thing I wanted to do.

"Goodnight, Francis." I said. He smiled softly and then left, the smell of water, earth and pine the only trace he was ever there.

I lied in bed awake most of that night, lamenting over the things I should have said and should have done. When I did fall asleep, my dreams were filled with the images of a fair haired boy and dark haired girl running through the castle halls, waiting on the South lawn for the fireflies, and instead of signing their names to history, signing them to the trunk of a tree.


End file.
